The Dark Prince
by PernillaG
Summary: The Dark Prince goes back to the very beginning of the Volturi, to the very first who ventured into the darkness.


The night was quiet. High above him, the snow-capped spires and rooftops of Poenari glistened faintly in the moonlight – the harsh, threatening appearance of the colossal citadel oddly softened by the frosty shroud of snow. Vlad smiled: It was a perfect illusion, a mirage hiding the terrible secret that loomed within the walls of his palace.

Tearing his eyes away from the looming stone edifice, he descended the sprawling flight of stairs down to another platform, from where he could observe the castle's formal gardens. They, just like the fortress itself, had been built on his command and served only one purpose: To entrap those he brought here to die.

Placing his left on the snow-covered balustrade, he lowered his gaze to the maze that sat at the centre of the castle grounds. For the briefest of moments, his eyes lingered on the neatly cut hedges, and then they moved to his guest. Unaware of his presence, the woman sauntered along the outer hedge of the labyrinth, the hem of her cornflower blue skirt trailing through the fresh snow. It was an odd choice of colour, more fitting for a summer picnic than a freezing winter night. But then again, she might have chosen the gown because it hid none of her charms.

"You could show her mercy." A voice spoke behind him.

"Clemency is God's domain, not mine." He replied, not bothering to turn to his visitor, who now stepped to his side without waiting for his invitation. "But I am sure you have not come here to lecture your Prince on morality, Ștefan."

"No your Majesty, I have not." His general replied, lowering the hood of his cloak. "I have come to you because of another matter: The Turk is stirring. The Sultan is preparing for war. Mehmed's eye is fixed firmly on Europe, on Vienna, and ultimately on Rome. And you Vlad, you stand in his way."

"And undoubtedly he is displeased by that." Vlad mused, finally turning to his guest.

"He is." Ștefan paused for a moment, his icy blue eyes tracing along the horizon. "He demands an oath of allegiance, tribute in coin and men, and your lands as passage to Europe."

Vlad laughed softly. "I hope you have not come here all the way from the shores of the Danube to deliver this message in person."

"No Vlad, I have come to urge you to give in to Mehmed's demands. The Sultan stands at the helm of the world's greatest army, the very army that breached the walls of Constantinople. Nothing and no one will stop him. Not even you."

"A monarch that bows to another is not a king but a pawn."

"This is madness Vlad. This is not a game!"

"Oh I intend to turn it into one, a magnificent game of power an revenge."

"And how will you defeat Mehmed, when the greatest armies of all of Christendom failed to protect the Byzantine Empire against the Ottoman might?"

Vlad laughed softly, his eyes shifting to the horizon. There, a thousand verst away, Mehmed Fathi, the Great Conqueror, was preparing himself for the greatest campaign of his life. And Mehmed, in his arrogance and vein conceit was sure of victory. The lesson in humility would indeed be a painful one for his old friend, and the final one he would ever learn.

"I will use the girl."

Ștefan paused, his face, pale before, was now deadly white. "Are you truly prepared to do this Vlad?"

"I have ventured too far into the darkness to turn back now." Vlad replied, turning his gaze back to the blond woman far below him. "Know what needs to be done."

For a heartbeat, the man at his side hesitated, and then he bowed. "Your Grace."

As his general vanished into the night, Vlad focused his attention back on his guest. Even from a distance, he could see the gentle swell of her breast and the faint heaving of her chest against her corset. She was nervous. And she had every reason to be.

A cruel smile lingered in the corner of his mouth as he descended the stairs into the gardens. She did not hear him approach, only taking notice of his presence as he stepped into the faint moonlight. As she beheld him, she quickly dipped into a low curtsey.

"Your Majesty." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Vlad stepped closer, the hem of his crimson cloak trailing over the snow as he walked. Wordlessly, he offered her his hand. She grasped it without hesitation. Her hand was cold, but not as cold as his.

"I see that you are enjoying my gardens, Madame." He said, studying her intently, his green eyes resting on her.

"They are beautiful, almost otherworldly." She replied, her eyes returning to the pale, snow-covered roses that were in full bloom in spite of the bitter cold – as if for some inexplicable reason, the seasons had no effect on them.

He chuckled softly, letting go of her hand and reaching out to pluck one of the roses from the hedge.

"Otherworldly..." Vlad echoed, drawing out the word, letting it roll off his tongue as he held up the rose, studying it closely for a moment.

"I have never seen anything to compare. It is almost like magic." She whispered, stepping closer to him, transfixed by the sight of the flower.

He chuckled softly, handing her the rose. "Illusions are by their nature sweet."

Mesmerised, she stared at the flower, finally lifting her hand to brush the snow from its powdery white petals.

"Yes, they are." She whispered.

He circled her, studying her silently. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the back of her neck and the throbbing vein that was visible just behind her ear, then he stepped closer to her, so close that he could feel the heat that radiated from her body.

Bending down, he traced his lips over the pulsing vein on her neck, his fingertips trailing gently along her arm until his hand closed around hers.

"But illusions fade, and when they do, we are inevitably faced with the harrowing truth that hides behind the mirage." He murmured, closing his hand around hers, watching as the flower withered under his touch – its colourful beauty reduced to nothing but wilted, black leaves.

Terrified, she struggled against him, and he let her go, watching calmly as she staggered away from him. He could have made this easy for her, but he preferred the elaborate chase to the artless kill – it was so much more exhilarating.

"Go on, run." He whispered, his eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments.

In utter terror, she stumbled away from him and then she turned, running into the maze in mindless panic. He smirked. She had already lost.

Waiting for the briefest of moments, he allowed her to venture deeper into the labyrinth. And then, slowly, he moved forward, stepping into the darkness – becoming one with it.

His keen senses felt her fear as she fled through the maze, heedless that her desperate escape was precisely what he wanted.

Following her, he strode through the darkness, idly passing the stone-carved effigies of winged demons and dragons that lined the maze. Stretching out his hand, he traced his fingertips over the pristine white marble of a statue and for a moment, it seemed as if the creature was coming to life under his touch, its body coiling and rippling faintly. Then he withdrew his hand, and the illusion was gone.

Closing his eyes, he listened to her ragged breathing and faint sobs as she fled through the maze, desperate to find a way out. But there would be no escape. Behind each turn, there would be just another alley, lined with snow-white marble statues and surrounded by an insurmountable barrier of thorny rose hedges that trapped her inside the labyrinth.

He felt her racing heart, and her breathing that grew ever more laboured. The chase exhausted her. And then finally, she stopped, desperate to catch her breath.

He waited a moment, watching her idly and then he moved, allowing her to hear him.

In utter terror, she fled again, stumbling through the maze in mindless terror – her long, blond hair catching in the branches, while the thorny bushes tore her expensive gown to shreds. And then, suddenly, she came to a dead end, the impenetrable hedge blocking her way, trapping her.

She wanted to turn back but stopped as she glimpsed him in the shadows. He waited, drawing out the moment, enjoying her fear. And then he moved, stepping out of the darkness, materialising like a spectre out of thin air.

And as he stepped from the shadows, he gave up every last pretence of humanity. The intense viridian colour of his eyes seemed suddenly unnatural, his skin was no longer pale, but deathly white and the sharp, regal features of his face seemed no longer hard but cruel and inhuman.

He felt her fear – the deep primal fear that every living thing felt in the presence of death. And yet, she did not run, simply staring at him as if mesmerised by his presence. For the briefest of moments, everything was still, as if time and space were suspended in a void – as if nature itself was waiting for the inevitable in agonised suspense.

And then, the illusion shattered and her breathless awe gave way to utter terror. She staggered away from him, pressing herself against the hedge, desperate tears running down her face.

"Shh, no tears." He murmured, stepping closer to her.

In terror, she pressed herself against the thicket, heedless of the thorns that scratched over her skin, tearing her dress and drawing blood. He closed the distance between them, his tall form towering over her small frame. Gently, he placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to lift her head. Terrified she shut her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

"Look at me." He commanded, his voice soft and alluring, tempting her to follow his command.

Unable to resist, she looked up at him, her blue eyes meeting his. Slowly, deliberately, he allowed his thumb to trail along the line of her sensual lips and down her neck, and then the gentle touch of his fingertip was replaced by something infinitely more terrifying – the merciless scrape of a claw. It lingered briefly on her skin, tracing over it in an almost loving gesture before it cut into her pale flesh, drawing her blood.

With the strength born of despair, she struggled against him, and he let her go with a smirk, watching as she stumbled away from him, her hand pressed against the bleeding wound on her neck. He followed her with slow, measured steps, his cold gaze fixed on her. He did not need to rush. She could not escape him.

Her heel caught in her dress and she stumbled, falling hard onto the floor. Frantically, she scrambled away from him.

"Please, have mercy." She whispered, her voice shaking in terror.

He smiled, revealing his horrifyingly sharp canine teeth. "It is too late for that I am afraid."

She screamed, her fear turning to utter, mindless terror. Her fingers clawed at the snow-covered ground as she scrambled away from him, in a futile attempt to escape the monster that was about to kill her. He followed her at an almost leisurely pace, only watching as she crawled into the corner, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the snow.

He closed the distance between them with slow, measured steps, like a predator, stalking its prey. She stilled as if she suddenly had understood the futility of her struggle.

Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee at her side, staring down at her, his viridian eyes fixed on the throbbing vein on her neck. Smiling faintly, he lifted his hand, brushing a stray lock from her face. She trembled violently under his touch, her body shaking like a leaf, her teeth rattling. Soothingly, he allowed his hand to slide into her hair, pulling her closer gently, as if to kiss her and then he descended on her with the speed of a viper, his teeth sinking into the soft, white flesh of her neck, tearing open a gaping wound. She screamed and flailed, but he held her close, almost like a lover, until she had stilled against his chest.


End file.
